


Party's Over

by StAnni



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Future Fic, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: Their relationship is not moonlight and roses, and it wouldn’t feel familiar if it was.  It has always been a push and pull, need and anger, need and anger.  His friendship with Rachel is the polar opposite – there is an ease that makes him uneasy, makes him want to pit what he has against what is possible.  It keeps him up at night and knowing that Selina is nothing if not acutely aware of every ebb and flow of his heart, that makes the guilt of simply considering a different life much harder to swallow.





	Party's Over

When he comes out she is on the balcony, fuming, pale skin against a night sky and loose strands of curls tugging in the wind. She doesn’t look at him but he knows that she knows he is there. She’s angry. Clearly. But so is he.   
“Party’s over.” He says as he goes to lean against the railing and she turns, her back against the city now. She smirks at the expression but she doesn’t look at him – eyes bright with frustration, fixed on the now-empty dining room of his apartment, perhaps staring at her own reflection in the glass doors.  
He looks away from her and measures his words – holding his own irritation in check. “You could have tried.” Her vitriol is swift and this time he can feel her eyes on him, dark with anger.

He has known her longer than he hasn’t and he is still surprised by her sometimes. This is not one of those times. Not one to wade the subtle water of politics, he knew she would get restless during the benefit. He knew he was taking a calculated risk in asking her to attend with him. But part of him had hoped she would simply shut off and bear through the night.   
She was by his side for a total of twenty minutes before she made her way out to the balcony, leaving him with nothing more than a quick glare.

“So this is the new Bruce?” She asks with a sting of malcontent. “Politicians and fucking lawyers?”   
It’s about Rachel, at least in part, and he sighs, again, measuring his words before he answers. “Selina. I know you’re not this naïve.”  
Her retort is quick, unlike him she doesn’t feel the need to sift through what she wants to say – Selina is all emotion all at once. “No, I’m scared that YOU are this naïve. That you think just because they need your money, you get to have some say. It doesn’t work that way, Bruce.”   
And just like that, just like it always ends up in arguments with Selina, his brain catches up with his heart and he matches her quick temper, the forced diplomacy of the evening evaporated “If you had even bothered to listen to Rachel in there…I have a unique position…”   
Before he can finish she snaps back, eyes sharp “I’m not going to listen to someone who has less of a clue of what is really going on than you do. Your unique position, this moral high ground? It’s a stack of hundred dollar bills.”   
Escalating from frustration to a fight is nothing for them. It’s effortless at this point. A history of fifteen years will overpower all graces. He smirks and shakes his head, her move usually, but he does it just to drive the thorn into her skin.   
It works. She pushes away from the railing, her long curls shifting quietly in the night breeze. “You’ve been out of the game, Bruce, you have zero context. Everyone, including your little dream girl, is so blinded by this nonsense that you don’t seem to get that you’re just causing monsters to vie for your attention. You are making a dangerous situation just much more dangerous.”  
It’s not that it is untrue. And it is not that he has not considered the fact that he may inadvertently be backing the wrong political horse – and he also never would expect that Selina would hold back to caution him. But he also knows, to a certain extent, that Rachel’s new presence in his life has thrown Selina, clouding her.

He’s not ready for that fight tonight.

So he changes tactics, and it’s a risky gamble that will end badly either way, but it may be enough of a distraction. “Bringing about a change by backing, really backing the right values is the only way to do it. It’s the only way to put weight behind it. You have to know that, and I think you do. I think you’re angry because I’m not just narrowing down on protecting your interests, because those interests, we both know, do not align with bringing about a bigger, better change in Gotham.” 

She doesn’t bite, not fully, and shakes her head with a smirk “I really hope you are just saying that because you’re just pissed I didn’t smile and curtsy all night.”  
She doesn’t say it is not the truth because they both know that it is the truth. They have rarely stood on the same side of a line and more often than not Bruce has given in, abandoned principles, to have Selina’s back.   
Love isn’t easy, has never been for them.

Surprisingly she is the one who backs down first – possibly exhausted by the night, the dress, the get-up of the party. She pulls the pin out of her hair and shakes her hair into a wave of curls down her back. “Tap out.” She says plainly, holding onto his shoulder as she steps out of her heels. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

With frustration still thick in the air, but the argument shelved to fester for later, he pulls her to him as she dabs the make-up from her face. “You’re ridiculous.” She says and he can still hear the tinge of contempt in her voice, but she does press back against him, against the hardness forming at the small of her back.

Their relationship is not moonlight and roses, and it wouldn’t feel familiar if it was. It has always been a push and pull, need and anger, need and anger. His friendship with Rachel is the polar opposite – there is an ease that makes him uneasy, makes him want to pit what he has against what is possible. It keeps him up at night and knowing that Selina is nothing if not acutely aware of every ebb and flow of his heart, that makes the guilt of simply considering a different life much harder to swallow.

She turns around and her eyes are like cool water. If Selina is an addiction, he will never shake her. “I do like the dress. Thank you.” And he smiles at the gesture – which is a lot for her. “I’d rather you take it off.” He whispers to her before he leans in to kiss her neck. She rises on the tips of her toes to meet him and the fold of her, into him, settles his heart. He knows that he has fought to be here, with her. And while they may grate each other from time to time, she has fought too.

They have lived together for almost a year, and before that, for another year, they pursued an actual relationship after he returned. While they have been together in some form or another since they were teenagers, their intimate relationship only really started two years ago and it is the one thing that has remained, through all their ups and downs, insatiable.

His grip on her side, her wrists, the underside of her thighs is as rough and hungry as her moans, her own fingers pulling at his hair as she rises her hips towards him, stiff, heavy and already leaking. “Come here” He groans, voice gravelly to his own ear and he pulls her up and on his lap with a bruising grasp. She sinks down on his jutting cock with a sigh into his neck and the world fades away. 

They are messy and wild and dancing just on the right side of pain. She comes pulling him deeper into her, fingers clawing at his back. Breathless he groans a warning that he is close, to which she flips them over, slides down and takes him in her mouth swiftly. She sucks hard and eagerly as he yanks at her hair in pleasure. When he does come she sucks him through it – taking every drop of him and he can’t tear his eyes away from her mouth as he cures hoarsely through his orgasm, her lips plump and red. After she moves up against him, tucking into his arm.

He wakes up from a text from Rachel. It is even less than platonic – simply congratulating him on a successful benefit, but his heart jump nonetheless, and with that, immediately is a surge of panic, guilt, so he puts the phone down without responding.   
Next to him the bed is empty, which is not surprising, Selina has never been someone who sleeps in.

In the kitchen she is staring into her coffee – black and sugarless and he leans against the counter in front of her. “What’s your day like?” She asks, which she never asks, and he is taken slightly by surprise. “I’m going into the office. I have a few meetings.” She looks at him and her eyes catch the light just in the way that kills him. It seems as if she wants to say something but she doesn’t, and flicking her eyes down to her coffee she nods. “I’ll be bar tending tonight so I’ll be here late.”   
He waits, because he knows her. And then she looks at him again “Do me a favor and unfocus a bit. Go see Lucius or call Alfred, or something.” It’s not an accusation but it feels like one and Bruce tries to suppress the urge to immediately dig in. Instead he is quiet. And because she knows him, she waits. “Maybe you should unfocus too.” He says it as calmly as he can but the edge is there and she feels it, her eyes shuttering before she looks away and after picking up the full cup of coffee, dumps it out in the sink. Bruce takes a breath and watches her, readying himself. “That it?” He asks, just, just pushing the line and she sees the bait but ignores it. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

It’s a thing that is building and he is grateful for the fact that he has a morning of meetings to distract him. He tries to make good as well as he can with a text or two to Selina’s phone around lunch time. He is very alive to the fact that she rarely remembers to carry the phone, let alone read texts. But he salves the knot in his stomach with the knowledge that he has put the effort in.  
And he does call Alfred. He tries to keep the conversation light, asking about London, about Alfred’s neighborhood, but Alfred is surprised by his call and is suspicious at the outset. “What’s going on?” He finally interrupts Bruce in an unconvincing spiel about the goings on at the company. “Are you in trouble?”   
Bruce sighs and tries to rub away a growing tension headache “I don’t know yet. I think I’m just out of sorts. Selina and I are…we’re not doing well.”   
It’s the first time he’s said it. It’s the first time he’s really thought it and he feels a pang of regret at discussing something with Alfred that he hasn’t even mentioned to Selina yet.  
Alfred, to his credit, doesn’t sell Selina down the river right away but does seem slightly relieved and encourages Bruce to “keep an open mind”. Alfred was, after all, the one who introduced Rachel to Bruce with the hopes of him having some semblance of a healthy friendship.  
Bruce swallows down the guilt and invites Rachel for a late lunch which turns into an early dinner. She is clever, and good – too good, and while he enjoys her smile and her frowns the heaviness around heart starts to weigh him down and he leaves, finally, feeling worse than he felt during the morning.

“I thought you were at the bar.” Bruce says, taking off his jacket as he enters the penthouse from the elevator and sees Selina at the kitchen counter, a hand framing the glass of light gold liquid – whiskey, by the looks of it.   
She doesn’t answer and he takes a sip from her glass and puts it back on the counter. Whiskey. Her eyes follow the glass – green as lies. 

She is still wearing her street clothes and hasn’t taken off her boots. Bruce notices her bag, the bigger one, in a heap against the wall. She’s not at the bar because she took a side job. He moves away from the counter now, disdain snaking around his heart with a sting. She notices, immediately. “What?” She asks, sighing quietly. 

He doesn’t ask about her hustles. He doesn’t ask because it is a given. He knew what he was getting into when they decided to solidify their relationship two years ago – and he knows better than to expect her to change.   
But it does give credence to the lesser angels whispering in his ear, the niggling voices that slowly rip and tear – every day they become less and less aligned. 

So he asks.  
“Who’d you rob?”   
She looks at him with a surprised, short laugh and her eyes are clear, incisive – she may not even had a sip of the whiskey yet.   
“What’s it to you?” Quick as always, bridges up.   
“Who’d you rob for?” He presses and she shrugs him off in amusement. “Burglar client privilege.”   
It’s funny and she means it to be funny. She means it to be light-hearted. She is content, light – as she usually is after a job.   
And it floors him like a toxin tonight.  
“Who. Did. You. Rob.” He repeats himself and she considers him, pushing the whiskey glass on the table, he can see that she is uncertain of whether he is serious. So he clears it up. “I’m not joking. I want to know.”   
Slightly astounded she backs around the table, moving towards him – her interest piqued. “Why? Is one of your new friends missing some valuables?” 

The thing is, is that she might even be serious. She was thoroughly irritated at the benefit and it would fall square in her character to take revenge on both Bruce and some asshole by pilfering a Rolex or too. The thing is too, that the rocky patch they’ve navigated for last few days threatens to turn into a full on nightmare if she is, in fact, serious.

“Don’t fuck around with my business, Selina.” He says, gripping the edge of the counter. She smiles at him, intrigued at his anger, the rise she is getting out of him. “Which of your new friends are you so concerned about?” She watches him “The judge who had your good friend Gordon make a DIU charge disappear? The lawyer who blackmailed his college girlfriend with an amateur sex tape? Or the pretty little prosecutor who introduced you to all these ghouls in the first place?”   
She is pressing his buttons because he’s pressing hers but the mention of Rachel does make him blink. And she sees.  
“Aren’t you worried that by hanging all these treats for all these monsters, you’re going to be eaten?”   
He takes a step back from her and towards the bag, which she snatches up with a light laugh. “Easy, tiger. Once we start grabbing bags and going through texts we’ll have no more trust left.”  
So it is Rachel.  
“Selina, just give me what you took from her and I’ll return it.” He tries to keep his face neutral but she sees something, something that he might not even have realized himself. Her smile falters, just for a second, eyes distant – reassessing, and his heart constricts. “I didn’t take anything from Rachel.” She says, dropping the bag and going back to the counter, leaning over the glass of whiskey.  
He watches her, the quiet defeat in her shoulders and he restrains himself from picking up the bag to check.  
“I forget what a dick you can be when you set your mind to something.” The humor in her voice is thin – he can hear the tension beneath it. The whiskey swills slowly against the movement of her wrist. 

“Don’t steal shit and I won’t be a dick.” It’s a try at lighting the mood, her vernacular and it falls flat. 

“So you’re good friends with Rachel.” She says, just quietly. 

They’ve been at odds before, and violently so. They have done things to each other that would make any therapist beg them to each move to a different side of the planet. He has, however, never felt, at any point in time, that she did not love him. For a moment his blood ices in his veins at the thought of her hiding something akin to his feelings for Rachel, for someone else, from him. And just the fleeting experience is enough to hitch and tear.

“Talk to me, Selina.” He says, and the distant glance she gives him – removed, he knows that the damage has long been done. She looks away, shakes her head. “You’re an easy mark, Bruce.” And she sighs. “You don’t think this chick wants exactly what all the other vultures want?” 

He choose his words carefully, gently “I think she’s a good person, Selina. And I think she wants what I want for Gotham.” 

“She’s good at something.” Selina smirks quietly. “That’s for sure.”   
“Do you honestly think I’m that easily fooled?” Frustration makes him sound harsh and she deflects effortlessly, not looking at him. “I think you’re done for.” She pushes the whiskey to the middle of the counter and the sound echoes in the silence after her words “Honestly.”

That night he stays in the guestroom, staring at the ceiling all night. Usually their arguments escalate with frightening intensity, ends in shouting, sex or one of them physically pushed away. The night before the world had slowly ended in silence. Not a bang. Not a whimper. Just her green eyes on him, just him without any means to salvage the wreckage he hadn’t even realized he caused.

In the middle of the night he had walked to the main bedroom – watched Selina sit at the windowsill - knees up, a pale ghost against the dark sky beyond. He had pulled her up, kissed her, uncertain and desperate as his sixteen year old self – shattered and blindingly devoted. And she had kissed him back, tugged at his shirt as he pushed her panties down. It was different. It was quiet and severe – both of them acutely aware that it may be the last time. He had kept her gaze as he pressed her against the window pane, his hand steadying on the cold glass as he drove himself into her – hard and slow - taking in every moment that he still had with her. She came with him as he spilled himself warm and thick, deep inside of her, and again on his open mouth as he licked deeply into her afterwards, tasting himself on her folds. 

Afterwards he left her there, asleep in their bed, in the ruins of what was left of them.

The next morning she climbs in behind his back in the guest room. Her skin is cool and her fists are tight against his shirt. “My heart is broken.” She says, a warm breath against the small of his neck. He clutches at her fists against his chest, gripping her there. “Mine is too.”


End file.
